


And Gave It to Somebody Else

by PrussianInAmerica



Series: Resurrection Isn't as Fun as it Used to Be [6]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrussianInAmerica/pseuds/PrussianInAmerica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has finally left Night Vale, and he's not looking back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Gave It to Somebody Else

Steve had stopped trying to fill the blank spots of his memory in. It was frustrating, fruitless, and almost always ended with a headache. He knew he'd lost something important in Night Vale, but he'd never remember what. Who knew, maybe it was better that he didn't know. Maybe he was happier than he was before. He'd never know, though.

What he did know was that he was getting out of Night Vale finally. His car was packed, he was on the road, and he wasn't looking back. Night Vale wasn't his problem anymore. He didn't have to worry about being taken away in the night by the Sheriff's Secret Police for snooping around. Or having to go to re-education for failing to follow an obscure town law.

Or Cecil Baldwin bitching him out on his radio show. Steve didn't hate Cecil, but he was the first to admit that it was annoying to have the voice of your town putting you down constantly for all to hear. And yet... When he thought of Cecil, there was an ache he couldn't quite place. It was worse than the headaches and he'd learned not to think of the radio host at all after a little while.

He'd been on the road for almost two weeks. He'd drive to the point of exhaustion, crash at some crappy motel for the night, and pick up where he left off the next day. Steve didn't know where he was going, but he sure as hell wasn't going to stop until he got there.

* * *

 

After a month on the road, Steve found himself at what someone in desperate need of help with vocabulary could very loosely call a restaurant. He didn't care what it looked like, though, as long as they had coffee.

"Two grilled cheeses and the strongest coffee you can give me. Really, if you could just dump the beans in some hot water, that would be super." Luckily, the waitress at the dingy dinner didn't take his sleep deprived babbling seriously, and soon there was a marvelous cup of pretty brown happiness sitting in front of him. He'd nearly drained the cup by the time she came back with his sandwiches a minute later and she wordlessly refilled it.

Steve was praising whatever god had decided to take a human form and make him the sandwich he had just polished off when he noticed he could feel someone staring at the side of his head. A cursory look revealed a man a few seats down, smiling at him.

"What?" He asked around the first mouthful of cheesy goodness of his second sandwich. The man chuckled.

"I've just never seen someone enjoy a grilled cheese so thoroughly. Please, do go on."

"I will, thank you."

They were silent for a bit, during which time Steve finished his sandwich and ordered a slice of strawberry cheesecake.

Steve glanced at his admirer between bites. "The town I'm from banned wheat and wheat by-products a while ago. Makes it pretty hard to get a good grilled cheese."

"And that makes you want them all the more. How far are you from home?"

"Pretty far, I'd guess. I left a month ago and I've been on the road ever since."

"Don't your friends and family miss you?"

"No family, and the few friends I had know why I had to leave." Steve didn't bother mentioning that he himself didn't. "Besides, they're all used to people disappearing without warning."

"That doesn't mean they don't miss you. Maybe you should call them."

"Phone signal isn't really the best there. And the police listen in on all calls."

"Write a letter?"

"Writing utensils have been banned since I was a teenager."

"If you don't mind me asking, where the hell did you used to live?" The man asked, laughing.

"Night Vale."

"Oh! That's not far from where I'm from! I mean, I always heard Night Vale was weird, but I guess I didn't know how weird."

"It's easy to underestimate Night Vale when you don't live there." Steve stared down at his empty plate, silently debating whether he should get another piece of cheesecake. Suddenly, the man was sitting next to him. Now that he could get a better look, the man looked a bit like Cecil. Not really, but enough.

"What's your name?"

"Promise you're not a creepy mass murderer?"

The man laughed again. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

"Steve Carlsberg. What's yours?"

"Kevin Free."


End file.
